


Tigerlily

by ziegler



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Hate Sex, Love/Hate, Lust, Moicy, Moircy, Power Dynamics, Rough Sex, Sex, Smut, how many ways can i say They're Having Sex in the tags, shameless sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 16:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12751935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziegler/pseuds/ziegler
Summary: Moira and Angela find out that they are just like magnets - completely opposite, utterly attracted, and unable - or perhaps unwilling - to get out of each other's orbit.





	Tigerlily

Angela Ziegler was as angry as she was turned on.

In fact, if being turned on was any measure of how incomprehensibly angry she was about the situation, then by her own admission, she was utterly furious.

“Dear me, doctor. You’re ever so needy, aren’t you?”

“Shut up and unbutton my shirt. I didn’t say you could talk.”

Moira laughed throatily as Angela frowned beneath her.

“As you wish, madam,” she stated plainly, before slipping her hands beneath Angela’s shirt.

The two women were utterly besotted with one another, and yet couldn’t stand the sight of each other.

Moira abhorred how conventional Angela was. She found it boring that Angela didn't experiment, and yet somehow was so intelligent, so dedicated that it was undeniably attractive. What motivated her? Moira had to know. Whereas Angela couldn’t stand the trivial approach to life that Moira held for others.

There should have been no factors that would have brought them together – but somewhere along the line, there was.

To be away from each other was glorious, but to be together was even better.

It was passionate, it was terrifying; but most of all, it was unpredictable.

And that was the way they both liked it.

As nature would have it - after many sexually tense liasons, meetings in the shadows and other manners in which they ended up together - they became entangled beneath the bedsheets of Angela Ziegler’s soft, warm bed; protected from the harshest winds of November howling against her window, and their ears full of nothing besides the sound of kissing, breathing, and smug noises of pleasure. 

The TV was on in the background as a product of leftover atmosphere before Moira had made her claim on the night. Angela felt besides herself with how desperate she was to have sex with the last person she expected to.

The two women moving between the sheets couldn’t have been more different, and yet, that was exactly what had driven them together.

And god, Angela was pissed off about it for a cocktail of reasons that even she couldn’t quite put into words.

She was angry with herself for allowing things to get this far. She was angry that Moira was so morally reprehensible, and she was angry that she herself had been utterly fascinated by her. By everything to do with her. By her undeniably handsome looks, her charm amongst women, and her unwavering sense of morality. All of her.

Moira, on the other hand, was utterly fascinated by Angela’s pioneering medical science – and the beauty of her body.

“You’ve a body like a goddess, pet.”

“…Then you should bow to me, shouldn’t you?”

Moira laughed.

“I’ve a feeling you’ll be bowing to _me_ before long.”

The way that Moira consistently pushed the boundaries of the medical field both repulsed and attracted Angela Ziegler, and for that reason, she felt infuriated that the thoughts kept entering her mind. She was fascinated.

Angela squirmed beneath the redhead, with her thighs either side of Moira’s slender hips; squeezing against her frame with a fury that even she didn’t know she had. She was so _irritated_ that she could allow herself to be compromised in such a way, and yet the thoughts of Moira made her so overcome with a lust that she just couldn’t describe.

How many times _had_ it been?

Seeing Moira at medical conferences at certain talks for healers within the field, as well as medical pioneers and inventors. Angela would sit silently in the audience whilst Moira’s controversial ways garnered both praise and disapproval, ranging from the loudest claps to the angriest of outraged shouts.

And each and every time Moira was up on stage, Angela could feel her mesmerizing, cold glare landing right in the middle of her blue eyes. As though there were a spotlight, right over her head. Moira’s eyes never moved from Angela – and Angela’s never moved from Moira’s in turn.

Together, they were stuck on each other in an unspoken relationship with the strangest of chemistry. They were magnets in the same orbit.

“Ah…” Angela breathed through the haze of her lust and her thoughts, and Moira, placing her thumb and forefinger gently on Angela’s chin, turned her face up to her lips, and kissed her with a grunt from her throat that made Angela’s legs want to cross.

She felt like a horny teenager with a crush on a teacher, and not a teacher she even liked – and for that reason, she kissed Moira back, slipping her tongue in between her lips fervently for as long as she wanted.

-

Angela had first found out her attraction to the unconventional as she leant back against a wall outside of a convention centre, waiting for a taxi to take her back to her apartment.

Moira had already been outside, watching her from afar; but had decided to finally make a move along the sidewalk, and sidling up to the blonde as she lit herself a cigarette.

The first thing Angela noticed was that Moira was taller than her. By a long shot.

“Good evening, doctor. May I buy you a drink for your time? I do appreciate _every_ member of the audience, but… _some_ more than others.”

Angela clenched her jaw as Moira smiled through her eyes.

“You shouldn’t smoke. It’s bad for you.”

Moira cackled.

“Do we always have to do things that are good for us? Come for a drink with me, Angela. May I call you Angela?”

“No.”

“No to the drink, or…?”

“ _No_ , thank you.” Angela replied curtly, with an unimpressed glare. Moira smirked.

“Come on. Live a little.” she exclaimed with a false jubilance. “We may be a little different here and there, but I’ve heard of you, too. Won’t you join me?”

The redhead doctor rest a hand over Angela’s shoulder to hold herself up from the wall, which was met by Angela slapping it away.

“No.” she reinforced with the same curtness as before, only this time, a little more infatuated by her complicated feelings through how good Moira smelled. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must return to my headquarters.”

And as Angela begins to walk, she hears Moira’s chuckle, and doesn’t turn around as she hears,

“…One day, you’ll be mine, Ziegler. You can’t deny it.”

-

Tonight, Moira O’Deorain is on top of her. Tonight, Angela doesn't have to fantasize about the way she wants Moira's hands all over her body, or have to pretend that she isn't thinking about the ways she wants Moira to fuck her. Tonight, Moira has her body is pressed against her. She’s kissing and groping her and shoving her down against the mattress, and she feels more lusty and furious about it than she can describe.

Moira, on the other hand – and for the entire time – had been chuckling to herself periodically, clearly very smug about the effects that she _was_ having on the world-renowned Angela Ziegler, which only served to inflame Angela’s complicated hatred even more.

“Angela, baby…”

“Don’t call me that.”

Moira’s hands work their way through Angela’s tussled blonde hair, and kissed at the salty skin of Angela’s neck.

Much like Angela’s thoughts, Moira is subconsciously the same, no matter where her lips are at that moment. It was impossible to not think on their history, however fleeting. After all, the night had started out much the same for the two of them; a usual, now expected call from Moira to Angela’s phone to see if she wanted to take her up on that offer of a drink.

Except this time, Angela had immediately told her to come over to her place, to which Moira only happily obliged.

And now she was thoroughly drinking up Angela’s atmosphere.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Moira breathed against Angela’s skin, who twitched at the sensation.

“Stop talking to me.”

“I just want to know, darling.”

“ _Stop_. _Talking_.”

Moira chuckled again against Angela’s ear, who couldn’t help but feel the familiar, lustful press between her legs at the sound; and her flushed face moved from pressing itself in the crook of Moira’s exposed neck towards her lips, hungrily kissing at them to shut her up.

“Mm…”

“Ha…er…”

“What’s that, love?”

“…Harder,” Angela breathed a little louder, ashamed of her request, but still pulling Moira harder between her legs. _God,_ Angela thinks _, if things are already this intense, how hard were they going to be in a few moments?_

Moira didn’t hesitate.

“With _pleasure_.”

Their lips meet again. But they don’t just meet. They fight.

Passionately, angrily, lustfully; Angela’s hands slide through Moira’s now messy red hair. Moira unhooked the clasp of Angela’s bra, pulling it off with such force that the straps didn’t need to _slide_ off of her arms for it to be removed altogether; and Angela tore Moira’s white shirt from her body. The rip sounded more satisfying than either of them had thought.

_Why am I doing this?_

Moira’s hands crept up Angela’s back as they kissed.

_Because you want to fuck her._

“Moira…”

_But why do I?_

Moira chuckled against Angela’s lips, and bit at her bottom lip gently. Angela let out a gasp of pleasure.

_Because she’s not like anyone you’ll ever meet again._

Moira’s palms hover over Angela’s breasts - cupping them, groping them to the almost therapeutic sound of Angela Ziegler’s _moaning_ , and Angela’s fingertips work their way up the slip of Moira’s alabaster skin in return.

She gripped to her as they kissed, begging with her hands and her lips to be touched, to be _fucked_ , to be unforgivingly, unashamedly _destroyed_ for one night only.

Well…one night for _now_.

The bed creaks with their shifting weight, and Moira can’t get enough of the woman beneath her.

Where she would usually have inserted a sarcastic or charming quip, this time, she didn’t have the ability to talk in the heat of the moment. Even she was paralyzed by her own lust for Angela, the sensation of feeling her warm, thick thighs wrapped around her hipbones, the feeling of her abdomen grinding in between the doctor beneath hers’ legs.

God, the smugness, the _rush_ that it brought to know she was fucking someone she considered to be so self-righteous, so conventional, and by her own consideration, someone with such a God complex.

To Moira, it was a total and complete success to have her rival in the medical world beneath her, half-naked in bed, tangled up beneath the sheets in a mess of legs and limbs working together, and about to fuck her so hard that she was going to forget her own name.

Angela’s hands move from holding onto Moira to gripping the poles of the bed above her, as Moira’s lips moved from Angela’s only to kiss down her breasts, and letting her tongue roll against Angela’s sensitive, hardened nipple. Angela squeezes her thighs again, and Moira crumples.

“Moira…” Angela breathed deliriously, a heady mixture of lustful and furious, and remembered the times where Moira _hadn’t_ been on top of her, but she had been saying the same thing. “Ugh…”

“I’m going to have fun with you tonight, pet,” Moira whispered against Angela’s ear, rubbing hard between her legs. “And you’re going to hate yourself for it, aren’t you?”

Angela felt the flash of anger ping her eyes open once more, causing her to grab Moira’s wrist beneath the sheets, and shove it between her legs. Moira hovered above her as she did, propping herself up with one arm from Angela’s hot, enraptured body, and rubbed hard between Angela’s legs over her underwear.

“Want me to fuck you?”

Angela made a noise of _god_ , _yes_ , _please_ _fuck me_ , and Moira smiled the same familiar grin. Angela glares with a scathing disapproval.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

Grinning that same, smug, Cheshire cat-like grin of satisfaction. God, Angela hated it. But she also relished in it being just for her.

“Tell me, love.”

“Who can say?” Angela hissed, before Moira made a noise of surprise as Angela flipped her onto her back with a surprising amount of force, “but nothing’s going to happen before I ride you.”

“Ah…” Moira exclaimed, her face flushed and in between her legs aching. Angela placed a hand around Moira’s neck as she sat on top of her, who gripped to the skin of Angela’s wrist. “Well, now you’re just spoiling me, sweetheart. For a woman who isn’t fond of me, you certainly seem like you’ve shed that skin.”

Angela ignored her remark, concentration rife across a flushed face, and leaned down to slip her tongue against Moira’s.

“You’d do well to remember who’s in charge here, you know?”

Moira gasped for breath as Angela removed her hand and lips momentarily, and rest her palms to guide Angela’s clit hard against her skin. Angela gasped, and Moira leered.

“And just who is that? You, Ziegler? Are _you_ daring to come out of your comfort zone? You? Ha!”

“Shut up.”

Angela sat atop of Moira’s midriff, moving herself slowly down onto her thigh, with a knee pressed in between Moira’s legs; god, it felt so _good_ to feel her clit rubbing against Moira’s thigh, especially grinding in between her legs.

“Augh…!”

Moira made a noise of surprised satisfaction, of desire, of desperation that Angela had never quite heard before, and that was enough to make her lose herself in the heat of the moment.

Her hands clung to Angela’s hips loosely, and then hard with the force of how turned on she was becoming, god, how close she felt to coming just from this alone.

“Angela…” Moira hissed, shifting Angela’s weight with her hands as she let herself be ridden, and Angela let out a high-pitched, momentary moan. “God damn it, Angela…!”

“ _Fuck_!”

Angela rode Moira’s thigh, clinging to her neck, looking with such a heated, full lust down at her face, and Moira felt an animalistic urge to fuck Angela overtaking her already insatiable lust.

“Just how bad do you want this, doctor? How much do you want me?”

“…Just…get on with it…” Angela exclaimed, and Moira was the one who flipped her onto her back this time.

“I want to hear you say it,” Moira whispered in the now hot press of their bodies, naked, unbearably turned on, and in that familiar, sultry voice, “for my own personal satisfaction. Tell me, pet. Tell me what Mercy won’t, but _Angela_ will.”

 _Fuck_.

Angela didn’t _want_ to say it out loud, but she was also so desperate to. The scent of Moira’s skin, god, the taste of her lips.

She was desperate for the nights where she, surrounded by nothing more than the familiar walls of her apartment, the scents of her cotton sheets, her flowers in the vase by her bedside table, and the roar of the traffic outside, slipped her hand into her panties, rubbing at her clit and thinking of Moira O’Deorain, moaning her name, slipping her fingers inside and out of the wet of her slit, and now the opportunity had finally risen for Angela Ziegler to lose herself completely.

Moira’s hand gripped firmly around Angela’s face, and Angela felt her head swirling.

“Tell me. Now.”

“Fuck me!”

Angela wanted to cover her mouth, but it was too late – it had slipped out.

Moira’s eyes were shocked for a moment, before they narrowed into the cold, stern woman with just a twinge of permanent smugness that Angela knew well, only this time, she was elevated. She was full of motivation, of spark, of something that Angela knew was going to be mind-blowing.

Moira kissed Angela hard on the lips. Hard. Angela hooked her arms up to grip to the back of Moira’s shoulder blades, and felt – as Moira’s hand slipped roughly down in between her legs – the slip of fingers inside her.

“God, you’re so wet, Angela. How often have you thought of me making you –”

Angela dug what was left of her nails into the skin of Moira’s back, and bit her ear hard. Moira let out a gasp of pleasure, and shivered against Angela – who grabbed her by the face roughly, and Moira laughed through her teeth.

“Shut up and fuck me!” Angela demanded. Moira didn’t say anything after that.

She did as she was told.

Angela was right about one thing – she knew that it was going to be mind-blowing sex. She knew. And it _was_.

She knew that Moira was the kind of woman who was a perfectionist in everything that she did – and that certainly, if not the very most, included the women she fucked.

Angela felt Moira fuck her hard and fast, grunting in her ear and pinning her wrist down with her free hand to prop herself up, her fingers sliding in and out of Angela with such force that she couldn’t help but writhe around. The bed was knocking against the wall slightly, and the dull buzz of the television in the background could no longer be heard over the noise of them fucking.

“Beg!” Moira hissed through her grunts, and Angela grabbed Moira’s face roughly. Moira made a noise of surprise. “What?!”

“ _Make_ me, you bitch!”

“Why, you…!”

“Ah!”

Moira picked up the pace that Angela didn’t even know she could, and Angela felt as though she was already trying to hold back coming. The sensation of Moira’s palm grazing her clit with every fuck, the feeling of Moira inside her, touching her, god, even just the knowledge that she was having sex with Moira O’Deorain after all these months, it was enough to –

“I’m…I’m close…!”

“Oho! Already, Angela?! The perfectionist is going to rush the finish?! I don’t think so!”

“Moira! Ah…!”

Moira slowed her touch just enough; slowed down her vigorous fucking of Angela just enough to make sure Angela didn’t come in those moments, and growled into the crook of her neck. She dragged her lips against it in slow burning kisses, Angela gasping for breath and almost without any strength in her arms, and Moira panted sticky breaths against her.

“You…you aren’t allowed to, not yet…” Moira breathed. “Not yet, Angela…”

“Ugh, fuck you…thinking you have all this…this control…”

Moira chuckled maniacally. Angela could feel the tension rising, the desperation, the passion, the unhealthy aspect of all of this finally coming to a head, and -

“I _do_ , though. Don’t I? Don’t I, Angela?!”

“No, you – ah!”

“Don’t I?! Tell me!”

Moira’s touch against Angela’s wetness quickened once more; rubbing slow, long circles around Angela’s clit, kissing against her ear, and listening with utter, lustful delight at her resentful pleasure.

Angela cannot help but come in the second that Moira quickens her pace.

She comes with a scream, and her back arched; her voice breaks into a hoarse, cracked moan of pleasure, of pure, unbridled pleasure, and Moira laughs almost triumphant in her endeavour. She cannot wait to feel Angela fuck her when she recovers.

Angela collapses, her limbs slack from the fuck. Moira does the exact same, sticking to her skin on top of her. The bedsheets are a mess, and the wall looks slightly worse for wear.

The only thing that can be heard from that moment on, once again, is the roar of traffic; the television's background noise; and the two of them gasping for breath. The feel of their hearts pounding against one another feels like vibrations so loud it could be heard the other side of the world over; and the only thing that can truly be _felt_ is Moira’s stomach touching Angela’s own from the force of her breaths.

And no matter how much they recover, or how much they sleep, Angela Ziegler is still in control. She is determined to still, and always, be in control around Moira O'deorain.

Moira rolls off of Angela involuntarily, falling asleep limply in the space next to her. It _almost_ feels as though they are a couple, Angela thinks. How horrible _that_ would be.

But a part of her cannot help but trace the lines of Moira's scars while she sleeps. 

And though neither of the women can be quite sure what’s going to come for them in the future, there is now only one thing is for certain – and that is that the _good_ doctor in Angela finds herself suitably absent...as she wakes Moira with her tongue between her legs as soon as the morning arrives; and Angela learns that there is no better feeling than getting away with something that you shouldn't be doing...even if that is feeling Moira's fingers digging into her scalp as she pays extra attention between her thighs.

The only thing to come in the future is each other - in many, many ways - and that is a suitable arrangement enough for the both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed this, then i'm happy to say i just finished writing my first game as part of Noodletub Games - and it's out on Steam right now! it's called The Ghost of You. if you want to sink your teeth into a suspense-horror-love story about an entirely lesbian cast, then please check it out [here](https://noodletub.tumblr.com/post/181306988281/the-ghost-of-you-out-now-on-steam)! thank you so much! ♥


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